THE HIRE

     I explained to the ash-blonde, pony-tailed, Noel, how, she might be hesitant to hire me because of my age (52!) but, in fact, I get along well with teenagers and young adults, alike.  I explained to her that we had a Dairy Quen in my family since 1963--and that I ran it for the past 20 years!  No worries.  I was very interested in any starting position and available for any shift. 

She smiled and nodded.  I thanked her for her time, got my two Venti-sized beverages. 

(I was trying to be enthusiastically impressive)  and left with my hopes in my throat—choking me.  

I strolled back to my car in the Florida sunshine juggling the beverages...….Ah, Paradise.

     This was of course, the third time I had brought my employable self to Noel's attention.  Each time reminding her I ran a Dairy Queen, so that, if she forgot my name, it was traceable by the employment record.  

     What other Dairy Queen owner would be applying for Barista at the green apron?  None.  All of them retired comfortably due to their shrewd accounting formulas involving blue chip stocks with dividend reinvestment.   I failed accounting.

    I climbed in to the the car with Rhon, and told her my of my brief encounter with the hiring manager. She wished me luck.   Her business partner, Jacque, also wished me luck, she, in fact was going to a group interview to a green apron that very afternoon!  I remained silently jealous and distanced myself from Jacque.

     We walked from mansion to mansion and dropped our business cards into the pot at each home with high hopes to win the give away of the day.  Would it be a gift card?  Cash? Anything at all would make this career choice more bearable.  We probably wouldn’t even find out for a week.  And by then, we would have all guessed the drawing was rigged.  Friends of friends, as it were.

     I had gotten separated from Rhon and Jacque when they told me to climb a stairwell and go see the upstairs study, so I did, and that was when my phone rang.  I was hoping it was the United States Attorney for an interview for secretarial work (a different resume I had sent out).  It was not.  It was Noel, who in a few hasty sentences said, “look, I’m skipping the interview because I feel we have spoken enough, so I just need your birthday in order to do a background check.  I need you to buy black or khaki pants, a collared shirt, nonskid, black shoes and be here tomorrow at noon.  Are you okay with that?"

Was I okay with that?  Of course! 

Real income was waiting for me.....not the high hopes and promise of eventual "Realtor" income.

Real income. ......And Cash is King.